


Save Me

by EpicFuzzy17



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Blindness, Blood, Crying, Graphic injuries, Heavy Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Possession, Pyschological Horror, So much angst, Some Fluffiness, atleast i tried to, but dont get excited, i hate mobile ao3 tagging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 10:30:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20526536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EpicFuzzy17/pseuds/EpicFuzzy17
Summary: Someone is pissed at Crowley and Aziraphale. Better hope they know how to fight greater demons. Otherwise it'll be curtains for them both.





	1. Chapter 1

Most people think possession is fast. Whoever is vying for control gets in, does whatever business needs to be done, and maybe gets out. No questions asked, normally.

This is wrong. Possession is a slow, painful endeavor for both parties. the soul that will be taking control of the body has to pick someone weak, watch them to make sure nothing is wrong, attack at a vulnerable moment, wrestle for control, and then keep that control.

It is then, and only then, that a possession can take place.

Crowley is at his most vulnerable when any of three things are involved: his wings, Aziraphale, and when he's asleep. More specifically for the last one, when he's having a nightmare and his lowest points creep up on him, cold and unexpected, ugly reminders of what he is. Never has he had comfort. Never has he adjusted.

So when he wakes up, feeling like there's eyes on him and absolutely terrified despite remembering nothing, he can't help the feeling of dread that overwhelms him. Normal yes but still unsettling. He just shakes his head and curls deeper into Aziraphale, a hot and solid arm curling around his back. A rock. He sighs in content, nuzzling his head into the crook of the angels neck.

It happens again a few days later. He actually leaves Aziraphale to go look around this time. One time may of been a fluke, but twice? Hes 100% convinced there's someone hiding somewhere in the building. He looks everywhere, checks every corner and cranny and under every marble tile before running a hand through short red hair and going back to bed. He's probably just paranoid that their head offices figured them out. Yes that's it. This will pass in a few days. Everything's fine. 

Although, just to be careful, he tells Aziraphale he loves him when he crawls back into his angels arms.

the third night total, second in a row is nearly the same. Crowley shoots awake with a cry, clutching his chest and panting. Someone had been pushing down on him while he dreamt, he was absolutely sure of it. Someone had been crushing his lungs, choking him, stopping him from getting away-

Crowley twitched. This whole thing was getting out of hand. he'd tell Aziraphale tomorrow.

He spared a glance at the angel, blissfully still asleep. He looked so peaceful. Normally he's a light sleeper and wakes up whenever Crowley has an outburst. Oh well. He can deal. Carefully as to not wake him, Crowley ran a hair through Aziraphale' white curls, smiling despite everything. Just his angels heat was its own special kind of comfort.

Crowley had never, in all his 6012 years alive had expected this. Neither had Aziraphale, he knew. Especially after Armaforgetit. They were truly lucky.

He kissed Aziraphale's hair and snuggled back into the angels arms, feeling very much content, dread momentarily forgotten.

That morning Aziraphale commented on how tired Crowley looked over breakfast. It was true anyways, the bags under his eyes were deeper, he was moving slower, and he did feel more tired during the days than before. 

Aziraphale had reached for his hand, ran lines over the back of it, asked if all was fine. God bless him and his concern. Crowley really did love him. More then anything. So he opened his mouth to tell Aziraphale about the past few days. 

And then didn't.

He meant to tell him, he really did. Before he could get a single word out, he saw…. Something. A shadow behind Aziraphale. It was reaching its claws closer and closer and smiled a sharp tooth grin behind him. 

Crowley snapped his mouth shut. aziraphale only raised a brow.

"Are you quite sure you're alright, dear?" You look rather skittish." 

"I'm fine angel, really, I swear. Just tired"

"You can tell me if something is bothering you, Crowley. I'm never going anywhere. Not again."

Crowley kissed his boyfriend's neck. Over his shoulder, the shadow was retreating.

"I know Angel. I know"

~~~

That fourth night was a little different.

Before we start this, understand Ceowley has nightmares of only two things. Has ever since his fall from Heaven. He dreams of hellfire and sulfur, white weathers shooting up past him as he lost his grace. He also dreams of normal fire, ash and paper and an angels name on the tip of his tongue. He dreams he is never fast enough. Crowley dreams of pain, and wakes up to love, safe arms and a comforting voice to hold him as he shakes.

Crowley does not dream of waking up on a bed that is not his own. he rolls over, dizzy and dazed and finds someone that is decidedly not Aziraphale. he opens his mouth and they put a finger over his lips, and then his mouth is full of smoke and he's coughing and there's a voice saying "soon it'll all be over"and he wants to wake up wake up wake up--

"Wake up, Crowley" Aziraphale begs. in the darkness his eyes are more grey than blue, blown open and concerned and close to tears.

"I'm up angel, I'm up" Crowley mutters and falls into Aziraphales open arms. He doesn't even have the energy to hug back, just one hand clutching at the angels nightshirt

"You haven't ever reacted like that, Crowley, what's going on?" Aziraphale hands are wide on his back and he is vaguely aware of white wings around them.

This time, Crowley doesn't hold back on telling Aziraphale. He tells him of what he feels at night, the eyes, the pressures he feels, his dream. He feels the shadow that morning is too brash, too big to admit. So he keeps quiet on just that.

"Oh, my love" Aziraphale sighs and tells Crowley about a thing called sleep paralysis, where humans have trouble sleeping and experience phantom things. He's supposed to be a demon, and not experience human things like this. Although they do suppose they've both been much more human since armanope. So yes this absolutely sleep paralysis and nothing more.

Crowley falls back asleep with Aziraphale promising that he will keep Crowley safe.

6 days after Crowley first felt the eyes upon him, he wakes up to the worst night yet. he doesn't feel aziraphale besides him, already knows the dozens of eyes that are watching him don't belong to Aziraphale anyway. There's something heavy on top of him, wet breath besides his ear and a hand on his mouth. Every cell in his body is screaming for aziraphale, to come back, help me help me--

He is scared, so scared, a thousand needles of terror all stuck in at once. He got lost in a fire sometime a couple hundred years ago and although he cannot die, the feeling of being alone and hunted is one he would not wish on anyone. The primal caged animal feeling he'd felt in his Bentley blends with the numbing feeling of losing Aziraphale and all in all, terrified is no where close to what Crowley is feeling right now. The sheets are too hot, he's too cold, his skin is on fire and he needs out out OUT.

Its just when Crowley tries to leave that he finds much too late that he can't move. Can't turn, can't sit up, can't writhe and struggle. Can't reach for his angels safety at all that Crowley does indeed scream for real. 

That scream was all crowley's shadow needed, slipping first a smokey thumb, then fingers, then an arm down Crowley's maw. He chokes on the smoke and tears start to fall from his golden eyes, from irritation or fright he doesn't know. It hurts it hurts it hurts, like he's being burned from the inside.

Violated is the only word that can describe the emotion and it's all he can do to scream for Aziraphale again before he loses all feeling. 

Crowley watches with displacement as his angel runs in, collapses on the bed to gather the demon in his arms although crowley does not feel his hands. he doesn't feel the sheets or any of Aziraphale normal warmth.

"Crowley, Crowley, my love, you're fine, it's just a nightmare, I'm here, you're ok" Aziraphale whispers. Crowley listens; watches his arms come up to hug his angel but is acutely, painfully aware he is not the one moving them.

Aziraphale continued to soothe "Crowley", rubbing his back, hushed sweet nothings in his ear. Somewhere inside Crowley's head, there are two voices. One is laughing, one is screaming, rattling a cage.

To be stuck in your own head with no control is a real nightmare, and it's even worse when you don't even get a chance to fight.

Eventually, an angel and a demon lay back down and in the dark, Crowley's golden eyes darken to grey.

Crowley screams again and bangs the walls of his cage.

Aziraphale does not answer. 


	2. Chapter 2

The next day is just as normal as ever. They go out, they eat, they walk. They feed ducks and laugh and intertwine their fingers. At the end of the day, they go home and indulge in each other in whatever way they see fit. Tonight, that is a certain white haired angel reading a story with a demon curled in his lap.

Aziraphale finishes his book with a satisfying thunk, a hand free to now explore its way through Crowley's red locks. The other sets the book down before coming up to stroke one pale cheek.

"Are you awake, Love?" Aziraphale questioned. He was tired too and while Crowley may of been at his best when he wasn't guarding himself, the couch really wasn't all that uncomfortable for sleeping sitting up.

"Mmhm" came the mumble from the angels thighs after one particularly hard scratch. His head turned, showing one heavy lidded golden eye. "What do you want?"

"Well, it is getting rather late, what would you say about going to bed?"

Crowley promptly shoved his head back into Aziraphale's stomach. Said Angel giggled at the sensation of Crowley's teeth nipping at his stomach. 

"You're cute" the angel murmurs leaning over the demon even more now. He's already got one hand on his legs to carry him if need be. He knows his demon, and it wouldn't be the first time Crowley had made Aziraphale drag his lazy ass to bed.

"As are you" Crowley murmurs, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips. His eyes are still closed when he leans up on his own according to press a kiss to Aziraphale, who is more than happy to meet him halfway. They only come up for air, breathless and laughing, all dimply grins and softness. Aziraphale finally catches his breath and goes down again, and again and again. 6000 years he's waited for this. 6000 years has he wanted to taste Crowley's lips, feel his body under his fingers, wake up to red hair and yellow eyes and black clothes in bed beside him. No way he's not going to take full advantage of it.

Something devilish sparks in Aziraphale, and before he even registers what he's doing fully, his fingers began skating over the demons ribs, slipping under velvet to revel in smooth, unmarked skin.

He gets exactly three peals of laughter out of Crowley before he rolls with a strength Aziraphale didn't know Crowley had, and they land hard on the carpet besides the sofa, giggling harder than they really should be. It takes Aziraphale nearly 10 seconds to realize his hands are pinned above his head he's so happy.

Goodness, Crowley never does this, when had he gotten so strong, Zira thinks. Nevertheless, this shouldn't be too hard to get out of, they've done this time and time again after all and nearly every time does he come out on top, straddling an exhausted lovestruck Crowley.

Now is not one of those times.

Now, Crowley is sitting on top of him, with one hand holding both wrists above Aziraphales head, the other floating just over his stomach. His snake tongue flicks in and out and the light behind him gives Crowley an almost angelic like look. Aziraphale tries to tug his hands out, buck, push anything to give him a fighting chance. A growl grows low in his throat after a couple seconds, for he cannot move at all. Normally he can send Crowley flying halfway across the room but right now the demon is sitting like a rock on aziraphales chest, making him effectively stuck.

"Oh Aziraphale, I wouldn't" Crowley purrs, lowering his head until he's just an inch away. His teeth are too white and too sharp. Blue eyes watch with utter horror as crowley's gold sinks away and gives way to silver.

Whatever this is, it is absolutely NOT Crowley.

"You aren't…" aziraphale starts, something akin to fright settling over him like a weighted blanket. "You are not Crowley" he spits out and bucks his hips as hard and to the left as he can. He uses the moment of shock to his advantage, pulling his hands the instant the hold on his wrists loosens, pushing, rolling and scrambling up from the ground as fast as can. Across the room, space to fight and defend. Old warrior instincts and unholy rage and fear start to bubble under his skin. A muscle somewhere in his face twitches and his hands start to feel hot. 

"Crowley" is up just as fast as Aziraphale, and he sees now what he should have before. The laugh lines of Crowley's mouth are stiffer, he holds himself straighter, and his hands have the faintest curls of black smoke coming from the nails.

Whatever isn't Crowley must've noticed the white light cause it makes a tch tch sound deep in its throat, and smiles a smile that seems to be leaking evil from its corners.

To see such a vile thing on such a pretty face that has never gotten anywhere CLOSE to such an expression is sickening.

"Nuh uh uh, I don't think so" the demon spread his hands wide, kicks back on his heels lightly, and the grin that splits Crowley's face in half is so wide that Aziraphale thinks his whole head might fall off.

"Think about it. You do that, and your dear friend will be so wounded I don't think he'll be able to come back."

He says friend like one would say moldy cardboard box. Venom drips off his words so thickly Aziraphale can feel it hanging in the air. He knows that whatever is currently possessing Crowley is right. Crowley never has been the stronger of the two (much to Crowley's annoyance (or so he says)) and if this wretch is stronger then aziraphale, then there's no way he'll be able to get rid of it without killing Crowley in the process, and faster too.

So Aziraphale pauses, glares at black eyes, tries to make himself look meek. He lets the light in his hands sizzle out, although it keeps simmering under his skin, just in case. Dips his head, keeps his back pressed to one of the many shelves that line the walls. He can feel every single spine digging into him but doesn't let it bother him. There's a plan spinning into place in his head and he's only going to get one shot.

"There you go, what a good angel" the demon sing songs, taking a step closer. 

Aziraphale backs up

Not crowley steps closer.

Aziraphale stays almost entirely still. His only movement comes from his mouth, whispering long forgotten words under his breath, feels his shoulders lose a fraction of a fraction of their tenseness as he watches a blue glow behind Crowley get brighter and brighter and brighter.

"I can hear him screaming you know" It says. "Hes pleading for me to leave you alone. To spare you."

One step closer. The blue gets brighter still.

"He has no control anymore, never will again. Isn't it grand? It's what you both deserve, really."

Aziraphale grits his teeth in rage and stares down mercury eyes. There are still snakes eyes, pupils as thin as paper on Crowley's face. A face Aziraphale has loved for six millenia, Seen go through a thousand different emotions and accessories. None were as awful as silver.

They are both royally pissed.

"Eight thousand fucking years I waited for the bloody war, to get my damned revenge and then its fucking called off and we get NOTHING" Crowleys voice sinks deep and deeper, cracks on the last word. It's not Crowley's voice anymore, though then again, he isn't sure if much of crowley at all is there anymore. A horrifying truth he locks behind a million doors.

"You are both a waste of Hells resources. The only reason I didn't destroy you on the spot is that I want to watch you die a slow death" it snarls. there's smoke coming from Crowley's mouth too. It's so strikingly uncrowley on his face that aziraphale has only ever known as Crowley that he nearly loses his focus.

This greater demon may be angry but aziraphale is boiling over with fury.

How dare this bastard storm in and ruining what they have, for taking his husband, after they'd so patiently waited with meager scraps for 6000 years. How dare it simply exists to do this to them.

Angel is furious beyond comprehension but will not let the words of a bitter soul get under his skin. not where Crowley's life is on the line. Never for that. Never.

Aziraphale spits out the last incantations the circle needs and there's an encouraging swell of blue behind Crowley's form. It is exhausting work but only half of it, and dear God please does he need this to work.

Nothing is too much for him. Not at Crowley's expense. Never at crowley's expense.

When the demon wearing Crowley's face closes the gap further, it's not unalike sliding a piece into a jigsaw puzzle. The satisfying feeling of knowing your that much closer to the final result. The bigger picture. Your ultimate goal.

Now.

Aziraphale lunges, tackling the demon back into a shelf. There's an undignified screech from both parties, clawing and wrestling for desperate control. Crowley's nails are smoking again, and theres white beads on Aziraphale palms. More than a few books rain around them when they collide into a shelf and Aziraphale hisses when his head slams into the ground. He retaliates by blindly reaching for Crowley's neck and squeezing. He was a fighter once. Fighters dont forget their instincts no matter how long its been. Aziraphale's nails dig into Crowley's windpipe, leaving little crescent moon indents underneath.

No. Not Crowley. Not right now. 

It's all he can do to not let go when he sees the face he knows to be soft and kind and nice slacken. He thinks the guilt might shred him before he can finish this.

He goes tighter and tighter until the familiar hands clawing at his arms and face go slack. Grey eyes lighten slightly. Falling wayside to squabble at whatever he can possibly get his hands on as a weapon.

Whatever this monster is Angels weakened it. Light isn't coming back to its eyes yet but it will soon and Aziraphale has no time to spare.

"I'm so sorry" he breathes, hoping his demon is listening, and burns heavenly energy into Crowley's chest. 

The screaming is imminent. Whether it is Crowley or the greater demons voice is anyone's guess. It is raw and primal and nothing but pain. Everything goes white with light and effort, he can't see anymore but he can feel the shape of his husband spasming under his palms, the slight dip in his chest directly underneath his fingertips. Long limbs flail, there is no doubt all control has been lost and there's an awfully loud and awful crack from deep within Crowley's body. White lines slowly begin to spread over his face, his arms, down his chest. Cracks spread through an angelic heart at the same rate. Aziraphale can feel his own might coursing through his soulmates body. The screaming hasn't stopped. It might never leave Aziraphalea ears.

In a cage in his own head, the real Crowley feels pain he hasn't felt since his fall. No- wait-this is-worse. He falls to his knees inside his prison and screams. Tears fall from yellow eyes and since his jailer is down for the count as well, he knows there are tears falling outside. The bars of his cell flicker, and if this wasnt so unbearably painful he'd leave. This is real torture. He screams as much as he can, willing it to echo, Angel I need you PLEASE, but the overwhelming hurt ultimately wins out. The snake of Eden loses control again.

Please Angel.

Crowley is still screaming when Aziraphale grabs his shoulders and shoves him full force into the runed circle. There is pure white energy in their veins now. They make already pale Crowley look deathly. The circle flares its walls now that it is occupied and Crowley's lax body slumps against the ground, skin falling apart in pieces when he hits the floor. His demons face is turned away. All for the better. Angel doesn't want to imagine the damage he's just dealt to his lovers image.

Aziraphale sinks to his knees at the same time, the guilt catching up to him and he sobs. Ugly and helpless. It doesn't matter. He can't believe he did that. He had never wanted to, never thought he would have to. Not with him. Never ever in his 6000 years imagined it. That kind of power can kill a demon and does often, oh but it had been the only way to subdue whatever annoyingly powerful monster was possessing Crowley--

The thought hits him like a train. Was. Not is. Past tense.

Oh God, he might've killed Crowley.

Angel collapses entirely, presses his forehead to the ground and buries his face in his hands. He sobs. He sobs and then there are hot tears pouring down his face and he doesn't try to stop them, not that he wants to. In between anguished howls, he tries to stutter out words, insults and curses. Mostly I'm sorry, Although if anyone were around to hear they wouldn't be able to pick it out amongst his blubbering.

Crowley, his Crowley, his perfect in every way, come away with me, book saver, tempter, serpent of Eden Anthony "just a J really" Crowley could be dead and gone and it could be his fucking fault. 

God fucking damnit how many times had Crowley saved him during the years? Comforted him? Sacrificed and bought and lost for him. How many times had they gone out just because he had wanted to and Crowley had followed just because he wanted to. Always one step behind him every time he'd misstepped or gotten lost or stuck in trouble. And when it came down to it, the one time Crowley had needed him, Aziraphale had let him down. A choked sound tore its way up from inside him and he set it free. Loud and burdened, unrestrained agony.

The only sounds in the bookshop for some time are an angels heartbroken cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more, are you ready?

**Author's Note:**

> im working on the mermaid au i sw9ear


End file.
